End of Day (Jack & Jill #1)

by Jewel E. Ann

  “Maybe when I get back.”

  “You’re just upset that I’m making a change for the better, a true fresh start.”

  Jillian stopped in the hallway. His words, even if not intentional, were a jab to her gut. “Here’s the thing … I had it as good as it gets. I have nowhere to go but worse.” She shrugged off her shirt and tossed it onto her bed.

  “Let’s talk about it.” Jackson stood at her door while she changed in her closet.

  “I can’t talk about it with you.”

  Jackson chuckled. “I’m the only person with whom you can talk about it.”

  Lilith. She couldn’t wait to be with her again because she was the one person Jillian could tell about her past without putting her safety in jeopardy and without judgement.

  “If I tell you how painfully hollow I feel inside because I miss Luke and Jones, then you’re going to rationalize everything, reminding me that we had no choice. If we wanted to live we had to leave. Then you’re going to pour on the guilt about how I have you and how our bond is stronger than anything.”

  Jillian came out of the closet with the posture of a rag doll as she sat on the edge of the bed to tie her running shoes. Truth—every breath was a silent whisper of gratitude to her brother. She knew she was alive because he saved her time and time again.

  “But right now I don’t want to be rational and, I don’t want to feel guilty. I just want to wallow in my misery of missing them.” She sighed with defeat etched in lines across her face. “Strength acknowledges weakness, it doesn’t ignore it.” She stood, looking up at her brother, no longer trying to hide the agony in her eyes. “For now I’m going to acknowledge it and later I will be stronger for it. Okay?”

  Jackson nodded then pulled her into his arms. “Fin de journée.”

  “I know—fin de journée.”

  *

  Jillian slipped in one earbud; she still couldn’t do both at night. Surrendering to the unknown wasn’t possible yet, maybe ever. The pulsing music opposite the quiet darkness of abandoned streets and sleeping dogs was a needed escape from the cacophony of morning chaos that Jackson preferred when he jogged.

  The cooler evening breeze, the grinding beat, her past, and the nagging fascination of a certain uniformed neighbor fed the surging energy inside her, propelling her legs to the point of exhaustion. Her lungs stretched to capacity, a simmering burn in her chest. The only thing that moved faster than Jillian’s legs was her mind. It was an endless loop of the last ten years of her life playing in a roller coaster highlight reel: the drizzle of mist from the fog rolling in over the bay, the doctor, the dog. She missed it all.

  After five miles of pure adrenaline-fed exertion, Jillian laced her fingers on top of her head and walked in slow circles on their driveway.

  “It’s probably not safe for you to be running by yourself at night.”

  Jillian mustered a small smirk with her back to AJ. She’d seen him in the shadows of his front stoop when she jogged the last few feet to her house. She was trained to notice everything and everyone, but she wasn’t in a hurry to acknowledge him. Her thoughts of Luke, Jones, and the normalcy she’d lost had left her feeling melancholy. As much as she loved playing cat and mouse with AJ, her inner fight was gone that night.

  “Yeah, well I think you have a scar on your lip and fresh branding on your back that says otherwise.” She turned as he stepped into view under the moonlight.

  It had only been hours since she’d seen him, but he looked different. It may have been the dark whiskers surfacing along his strong jaw or maybe his casual attire of shorts and a T-shirt, or the absence of his usual scowl, but something about him made Jillian’s guard slip.

  “This thing…” he motioned between them before shoving his hands in his pockets “…it’s not a good thing. Cage is coming home tomorrow and I don’t want him to think anything is going on between us.”

  Jillian gave careful consideration to her response because while AJ’s mouth said one thing, his eyes said the opposite. They lingered on her bare legs then her exposed abs below her sports bra. He must have swallowed after every third word. She craved intimacy, to the point of feeling a physical pain inside, from nothing more than the way his gaze traversed her body.

  You miss me … She heard Luke’s voice in her head. More than my heart would miss its beat, she thought, closing her eyes for a brief moment before letting his image fade from her mind.

  Chapter Ten

  Living through the trauma was easier than reliving it … Every. Single. Day. AJ counted himself lucky for having served so many years, seen so many things that no one should ever have to endure, and yet he made it home to his family. Many of his comrades did not. He played the part of the grateful soldier who served his country, then slipped back into the role of husband and father. If only that would have been the case, the truth. But it wasn’t.

  His PTSD took its time lurking in the distance, waiting to strike like a battalion waiting command. And when it did, he lost his wife, the man he was, the father he wanted to be—his whole world. The worst part was the unpredictability of it. Some days he felt like the victim of dissociative identity disorder. Nearly every woman he’d tried to be with since his wife left because after a few dates they caught a glimpse of the man he’d become.

  The half-pint of solid muscle that stood before him with a dewy sheen of sweat kissing every inch of her silky skin stirred something inside him. Jillian Knight was clearly a hundred ways of fucked-up, and the warning sirens blared in AJ’s head every time he neared her proximity, but he was deaf to their warning.

  Jillian was either fearless or scared to the point of ruthless insanity. Either way, AJ wanted nothing more than to exhale … relinquish control, and let her see the monster inside. Beat him, break him, destroy him, and maybe in the wreckage find the man he used to be. But he had a son and for once in his life he was determined to put him first, no matter the cost. Cage was the only thing AJ had left that was worth fighting for, even if the protector was also the enemy.

  Jillian tugged at her ponytail until her sweaty platinum blond hair fell in tangled waves around her shoulders. “What is this thing, AJ?” She stepped closer until there were no more steps to take. Personal space was not something she acknowledged with him.

  His hands twitched, desperate to clutch her hair and pull those pouty lips to his. He knew their seductive taste, their arousing touch, and their demanding control.

  “Dangerous,” he whispered. His fingers grazed the line of her jaw. She closed her eyes. With firm pressure, he dragged his thumb along her bottom lip. A storm raged inside that left him teetering on a razor’s edge of control.

  On an exhale, her body froze at attention with the exception of her chest that heaved with building intensity every second his touch lingered. She parted her lips and he slid the end of his thumb over her bottom teeth. He swallowed and suppressed a guttural moan when she flicked the tip of her tongue against him. The hard pulse of his erection grew torturous.

  AJ knew what was coming, but some alien masochistic part of him needed it to justify the moment he willingly gave in to. Like an angry serpent, he hissed when Jillian clenched her jaw, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he curled his thumb until she released him. There was no blood, but the deep indents of her front teeth were molded into the pad of his thumb, and he felt confident his nail would be black and blue within days.

  He wrapped his lips around the tip of his thumb, and Jillian’s golden eyes—the ones that only existed in children’s fantasy books—shimmered in the full light of the moon. There was no way to read into her dubious expression. Did that twinkle in her eyes spell challenge or conquest? Either way he knew for certain it glimmered with the element of surprise.

  “Dangerous, huh?” Jillian rubbed her lips together, as if she wanted to savor the taste of him. “To whom?”

  AJ pulled his thumb from his lips, rubbing his forefinger over the indentations. “I’m not sure, yet.”

  Her
gaze faltered. Several thoughtful blinks later she met his eyes again. “Pleasant dreams, AJ.” She lifted on to her toes, but without him bowing, she couldn’t reach his lips. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer for control as she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. By the time he opened them and unclenched his fists, she was gone.

  *

  The nightmares were rare, one every month or two. And even those were more often flashbacks to the months that led to the demise of his marriage.

  The anger.

  The fighting.

  The reflection AJ no longer recognized.

  It was the pain. If not the physical agony of the migraines that came at more frequent intervals, the emotional anguish over his inability to control his temper. One minute he raged out of control over Cage forgetting to make his bed and the next he withdrew, sometimes leaving for days—sleeping on base, or even in his truck. He was never suicidal. There were just times he didn’t want to be found, didn’t want human contact, not even a knock at his door.

  “Dad?” Cage whispered.

  “Yeah?” AJ answered, his voice gravelly from lack of sleep and muffled from the pillow that covered his head to block out the morning light penetrating his shades like a thousand knives to his brain.

  “Um … it’s almost ten-thirty. Are you okay?”

  AJ cursed even the dimmest reflection of light as he peeked out from under his pillow to confirm the time. “Dammit!” he mumbled to himself. “I’m fine.”

  He wasn’t fine. He was two and half hours late to work and the devil was still drumming in his head. After pulling on a T-shirt and shoving his legs into a pair of jogging pants, he lumbered into the hallway.

  “You look like shit.” Cage grimaced as he handed his father a glass of water and a couple Advil.

  “Sounds about right.” AJ tossed back the pills.

  “Bad one?”

  AJ nodded, swallowing the last of the water. “I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Take a sick day. That’s what they’re for.”

  AJ pinned Cage with a piercing glare. “I’ve never called in sick to work.” He also hadn’t ever had to jerk off twice in less than an hour before going to bed because a certain neighbor had him so painfully turned on. He thought the overdue release would have lessened the severity of his migraine, but it hadn’t.

  Cage shrugged. “Whatever. Jillian caught me when I arrived earlier. Jackson’s working until later this afternoon so she asked if I’d give her a ride to Dillion Brothers’ this morning.”

  “The Harley Davidson dealership?”

  Cage grinned. “Yep. She ordered a bike for herself. Jillian rides a motorcycle. Jackson’s one lucky bastard.” Cage shook his head.

  “Why do you say that?” AJ brushed past him in desperate need of coffee.

  “A wife that looks like a fitness model, wears virtually nothing, and rides a motorcycle—not the stereotypical butch-looking broad that you usually see on a bike. I’m talking every guy’s fantasy … times one hundred, and he’s tapping that every day—probably more than once.”

  “Cage!” AJ growled with his back to his son, nearly overflowing his coffee cup.

  Cage fought to hide his smirk. “Sorry, he’s gently making sweet, sweet love to her every day—probably more than once.” His voice rose an octave.

  AJ pinched his temples. “Jackson’s her brother, not her husband.”

  Cage’s eyes grew wide. “Really? Why does everyone seem to think they’re married?”

  AJ sighed as he glanced at his watch. He needed to get his ass to work and call to let them know why he was running so late. “I don’t know. They’re two grown siblings living together; that’s messed-up enough. I don’t have the time nor the interest to dig any deeper into that situation.” He also didn’t know why he’d fucked her in his head while he got himself off in the shower once and again in bed a half hour later. “Stay away from her … them. Got it?” AJ warned as he brought his phone up to his ear.

  “It’s just a ride, and I already said I would.” Cage grabbed his keys and waved to his dad.

  “Wait—” AJ didn’t get a chance to finish as work picked up on the line and Cage shut the front door. While he explained his situation, he looked out the front window. Jillian slipped on her sunglasses, walking toward Cage’s old black pickup. It was the first time AJ had seen her in jeans. Jeans that hugged her curves a little too much and black leather boots.

  Cage held up one finger and jogged back to the house as AJ ended his call. “Forgot my phone.” He took the stairs two at a time.

  AJ endured the excruciating pain of the sun to go have a few words with Jillian who was waiting in the truck.

  “Sarge,” she said, looking not the least bit surprised to see him as he opened the door. “Playing hooky today?” She eyed him in his casual attire.

  “I told you to stay away from Cage.”

  “Don’t sweat it, the only thing I’ll be mounting today is my Sportster SuperLow.” Jillian applied lipgloss in the visor mirror. “And even that ride will be cut short since I’m watching Lilith this afternoon.”

  “He’s…” AJ grimaced while bowing his head and clenching one hand on each side “…just … a boy.” The Advil wasn’t touching the pain and his coffee threatened to come up as a wave of nausea hit him.

  Jillian flipped up the visor. “He’s a young man and—” She looked over at AJ. “Are you okay?”

  AJ hissed in a breath as he clenched his jaw. Jillian unbuckled and turned toward him, resting her hands over his. “AJ?”

  He held his breath, fighting to keep the nausea at bay, not wanting to vomit or pass out. Jillian slowly wedged her hands under his and with a pressure that wasn’t normal for a woman’s hands, she massaged his head, thumbs digging into his temples with small circles. He left his hands resting over hers as he moaned like a wounded animal.

  “Migraine?”

  “Yes,” he seethed against the pain.

  She continued to massage his head and as much as he wanted to fight it, he let his body begin to relax into hers. The pain was still murderous, but the nausea started to subside.

  “Dad?”

  AJ jerked away from Jillian and the sudden movement shot daggers through his brain. “Fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled toward the house.

  “Here’s some money and a list of things I need from Home Depot for Dodge and Lilith’s bathroom. I’ve got your dad.” She caught up to AJ and wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him into the house.

  “What about your motorcycle?” Cage called.

  “Another day.” Jillian helped AJ down the hall.

  “Go … I don’t want your help.” Pain bled from his voice, intensified by the humiliation he felt having Jillian help him. How could a fucking headache turn into such a degrading moment?

  “Shut up.” Jillian pushed him past his bed into the master bathroom, leaving the lights off. The glass block window allowed enough light to see.

  AJ had a large tiled walk-in shower and she turned it on to hot.

  “Go,” it came out as a desperate plea.

  “No.” Jillian wrestled his shirt off.

  The unbearable pulsing in his head rendered him incapable of fighting her any longer. She pulled down his pants and helped him step out of them. Then, leaving his briefs on, she nudged him toward the shower.

  “Sit.”

  He stepped inside and slid down the wall, knees bent, head cradled in his hands as the nearly scalding water rained down on his head. AJ wasn’t sure if it was the pain of the hot water distracting him from his head, but within seconds he could breathe again. The throbbing eased to just bearable.

  Jillian toed off her boots and removed her clothes, leaving on her bra and panties. No one had ever taken care of AJ like that before. His voice caught in his throat, trapped by confusion. He wanted her to leave, but needed her to stay. As if defying a law of nature, his body shivered when she kneeled before him, squeezing between his knees and tak
ing his head in her strong, capable hands. He rested his forehead on her chest as she pressed her fingers into his scalp, magically landing on every pressure point.

  “Feel good?” she whispered so close he felt her lips brush his ear.

  “Yes,” he breathed out on a slow sigh.

  Jillian worked one area, then made a slight shift finding more points that eased the pain. Her fingers kneaded their way down the back of his head, putting firm pressure with small upward strokes at his nape. He moaned and she continued to his shoulders, digging into tight knots of tension.

  “God …” he breathed.

  She rested her cheek on his head, and he swallowed a large gulp of ego, confusion, and a shitload of garbage from his fucked-up past. They stayed resting on each other until the water faded to warm.

  “You’re running out of hot water.”

  For the first time since she stepped in the shower, AJ opened his eyes and slowly lifted his head. Surprised and relieved that the pain was nearly gone.

  Jillian stared expressionless with rivulets of water racing down her face, lips parted. AJ’s eyes homed in on a single bead of water on her neck. He watched it make a leisurely descent to the swell of her breast. His gaze flicked to hers for a split second before finding that drop again. He leaned in until his lips pressed to her wet flesh, his tongue capturing that single drop.

  Her breath hitched. AJ lingered, his hands resting on her legs.

  “I’m soaked and Dodge is expecting me by noon.”

  AJ nodded, keeping his head down.

  She stood and offered her hand. He took it and let her help him up, pausing a moment to gather his bearings.

  “Okay?”

  He nodded. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, then grabbed another and dried him off.

  “You might need some dry underwear.” She smiled and handed him the towel.

  AJ relinquished a small grin that felt foreign to his lips and wrapped the towel around his waist. He collapsed on his bed, completely exhausted. Migraines drained all of his energy. After a long sigh he opened his eyes capturing Jillian in the bathroom with her back to him. She unhooked her bra setting it on the vanity. Then she removed her wet panties. He had never seen the human body in such perfect form.